


Thirteen Pounds(*)

by Corveille



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bad Parent Amanda (Detroit: Become Human), Blood and Injury, Cannibalism, Connor & CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60 are Twins, Corpses, CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60 Has a Different Name, Dismemberment, Gen, Killing, Oneshot Prompts Challenge, Prompt: Loss of Control + Messy Cleanup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:02:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corveille/pseuds/Corveille
Summary: Connor wasn’t worried about his brother getting hurt, Sixer was more than capable of handling himself alone.The same couldn’t be said about his urges.
Relationships: Connor & CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31
Collections: Prompt Challenge





	Thirteen Pounds(*)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is my take for the combined prompt: Loss of Control + Messy Cleanup
> 
> Thank you so much to [Sunkiller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunkiller44) and [Greed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingkirkwall) for beta reading! You are awesome ❤

Connor slumps back against the headrest of his chair and stares at the half-done document on his monitor. The text caret blinks back almost mockingly at him the more Connor looks at it.

He’s been trying to write the same paragraph for the last fifteen minutes. He taps the butt of the pencil against the desk and hums, deep in thought. Another missing person’s report to add to the pile another; night of long shots of coffee and poor hours of sleep.

He looks at the digital clock set on the bedside table. It’s already a quarter past nine, Connor makes a mental note to make dinner soon.

A knock on the door distracts him from the report. Sixer doesn’t wait for Connor to give him the go ahead before he’s walking into the room.

Almost right away, Connor takes notice of the scratch marks on Sixer’s arm.

“Do you remember when we left the peroxide? Can’t find it.” Sixer asks as he takes a tissue from the box on the desk and presses it to his forearm.

“Should be in the basement, by the sink. How many?”

“Nothing I can’t handle on my own.” Sixer shrugs when he sees the report on the screen, but Connor spins the chair around so he’s facing his twin and stares him down.

“Sixer,  _ how many? _ ”

“Bossy,” his twin sighs, “just two. They tried to steal the car when I was getting in. Thought a simple knife would be enough.” He continues when he sees Connor about to open his mouth. “No cameras, believe me I made sure of that.”

Connor looks back at the screen, and at the report he has yet to finish about Sixer’s previous lapse. They were getting more and more frequent. He wasn’t worried about his brother getting hurt, Sixer was more than capable of handling himself alone. 

The same couldn’t be said about his urges.

“I’ll go get the tools.” Connor says as he shuts down the monitor. A hand around his wrist stops him from getting into the hallway.

“Help me get them out of the car first, those bastards are fucking heavy.”

They head downstairs into the garage. Connor quickly grabs the leather gloves from the table set on the wall while Sixer walks past him to a small cabinet. 

“Keys!” he yells and tosses them. Connor catches them, having done this enough times for the reaction to be automatic. The car, as always, is parked with the trunk facing them.

The car’s horn beeps two times as Connor deactivates the alarm and opens the boot. He looks at his twin’s carnage. The two men are young and with some meat in them, tender. Gashes spread on most of their skin, leaving running trails of red on their clothes like paint on a canvas. The tarp they set up to cover the walls of the truck keeps them clean, they don’t have to worry about stains in here. 

Connor wets his lips. He puts on the gloves and rolls up one of the corpse’s sleeves. The rigor mortis has just set in and makes it difficult to move their limbs.

“I checked,” Sixer says as he carries two body bags and drops them on the ground, “doesn’t seem like they were druggies.”

Connor hums and moves on, focusing next on the neck. Cut all the way with 3 slashes on each body. Far more than strictly necessary to kill a person. One of them has a gaping hole where the eye should be. He throws a look back at his brother. 

“What?” Sixer says before his eyes find what Connor is looking at and becomes defensive. “Assholes left a scratch on the car, I was a little pissed alright?”

“You need to control it better, these men take the count up to six victims in just two weeks.” 

“Not everyone can be like you, Connor.” Sixer’s gloves snap loudly against his wrist as he puts them on. “Besides, don’t have too much to worry with you watching my back at the station.” Sixer winks and wraps one arm around Connor’s shoulders in a half hug. One Connor soon slips away from.

“I can only do so much if you don’t allow time to breathe between each kill.” He hates arguing with his twin about it, but little can make it past that cocky personality. At this rate, the risk of getting caught will only grow if Connor lets it slide.

“You act so self righteous every time I do this, but you are no better than me.” Connor’s well aware and doesn’t shy away from the fact. He’s been licking his lips since he saw the bodies.

“Get the feet, I’ll get the shoulders.”

“Always getting the good end.” Sixer mutters but grabs the legs of the first body as they drop it on the body bag.

“Well, I’m the oldest.” Connor says with a smile and carefully moves the arms inside the bag

“ _ Only _ by sixty seconds.” Sixer retaliates as he does the same with the legs.

One at a time, they move the bodies into the basement. They drop one bag on the ground next to a freezer, the other they set on a table, standing right in the middle of the room.

“This should keep you busy for a while.” Sixer says while he dusts his hands off.   
  
“I still have leftovers from your last slip up.” They talk so casually about it and Connor can’t help but think that, in a weird fucked up way, it's funny.

A detective with cannibal tendencies and an editor with the impulse to kill. Quite the pair they make. Sometimes Connor wonders what their parents would think, if they could see them now. He doesn’t remember their faces anymore.

He wonders if Amanda would feel disappointed they ended this way, or proud, that they have kept this act for so long.

“Stop thinking about that bitch.” Connor glares at Sixer but he just walks up to Connor and pokes the gap between his eyebrows. “You are not subtle as you think, your brows scrunch up together when you think of her.”

“She was—.”

“She was our catalyst, but that’s it.” Sixer snaps before a smirk takes over his features again.

“Come on then, butcher,” he zips the bag open and taps on the table, “meat’s right here.”

“Bring me the scissors.” Connor offers his hand for Sixer to drop them when he finds them. His tongue runs over his lips again as he imagines how it’d be to open the actual skin.

He starts with the sweater, the edge of the scissors cut through it as Connor sets to work. The shirt comes off just as easily, but the jeans are another story.

“Could you get me another set?” He asks his twin but Sixer just looks at the denim and shakes his head.

“Move over princess,” he grabs the two pieces separated by an uneven cut and tugs them apart. The jeans tear under his hands.

“Impressive.” Connor says with natural-born apathy and drops the tattered clothes into a pile. “Turn on the incinerator.”

They should count themselves lucky they found this house. Small in some regards, with only two bedrooms, a miserable excuse for a bathroom, barely any space to act as a living room, but it had everything they needed for this kind of job.

“Yeah, I know the deal.” Sixer drags out and opens a metal closet on the other end of the basement. “I’m getting something to eat after this, I’m starving.” He doesn’t miss how Connor looks at the freezer. 

“Want something?” He says, wearing a smug smile.

“Thigh.”

Connor washes his hands in the sink next to the table and takes a cleaver from the tool rack mounted on the wall.

He finds the peroxide next to the tap and remembers the scratches. “Go take care of those scratches while I finish up this first one.” He says and offers the bottle to Sixer after he grabs a frozen pack from the freezer.

Sixer rolls his eyes but takes the bottle.

“Yes,  _ mom. _ ”

Connor glares at his twin’s retreating figure until he hears the basement door close then, he sets up to work. 

He starts with the head, the sound of the blade cutting through yielding flesh is music to his ears.

**Author's Note:**

> (*) To explain the title, here's a fragment extracted from [Britannica](https://www.britannica.com/science/protein/The-muscle-proteins) : _About 40 percent of the body weight of a healthy human adult weighing about 70 kilograms (150 pounds) is muscle, which is composed of about 20 percent muscle protein. Thus, the human body contains about 5 to 6 kilograms (11 to 13 pounds) of muscle protein._
> 
> The prompts are from the [Android Whump Big Bang Server](https://discord.gg/xd8qVKx). They are a weekly challenge we set to try and get the writing flowing. 
> 
> You can also find me in [The New ERA server](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm) :D


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